Murder on the TransDimensional Express
by Gryphinwyrm7
Summary: Quiverwing Duck attempts to solve an unthinkable murder...an alternate Darkwing, murdered by another alternate Darkwing. As he progresses in the case, he flashes back to his own past, and it gives him the strength to carry on everyday.
1. Darkly Dawns the Quiver

**Murder on the TransDimensional Express**

_I don't own Quiverwing Duck, Darkwing Duck, or any of the AU DWs. They came from the brilliant minds of Tad Stones, Ian Brill, and James Silvani. Disney owns them all. The Deadly Malicia MaCawber belongs to Vaporish, used with permission._

_I am the arrow that never misses, I am the hero, who gives crime the shaft, I am QUIVERWING DUCK_

Why does every universe we go to have a Starducks?

No I'm serious, I'd like an honest answer…is there some sort of evil TransDimensional Corporation that desires the pan-universal spread of the Double Venti-Half-Calf-Mocha Latté? I'd really like to know.

It wouldn't bug me so much but the Starducks that I was currently standing in was in the OK Canard…the Wild West universe, protected by Sheriff Deathvalley Duck. There was no logical reason for there to be a Starducks here. Nevertheless here we were, waiting, in the OK Canard. The barista, a cute young duck handed out lattés to the various Darkwings sitting in the café. It probably helped that we had all ordered the same thing. Rorschach Darkwing and Darkwing Doubloon sat at the same table that I did. We'd something of a bond, as I had randomly picked them to be my lieutenants, and gotten to know them fairly well.

I'd…sort of…been elected leader very early on in our journey back to our own universes. Frankly, all the Darkwings had wanted to be leader, but Spockwing Duck had made the case that I was the most logical choice, having been the first to break my hypnosis, and rallying the other Darkwings to Darkwing Prime's aid. Ironically, I was one of the few who didn't want to be the leader. I got outvoted.

So I had picked the two Darkwings standing closest to me and told them to meet me in the Engine of the TDX. I made them my lieutenants, in charge of carrying out any orders I felt were necessary. So far, I hadn't had to do much.

Rorschach Darkwing pulled his mask off his beak and popped a few sugar cubes into it. Doubloon starred at the mallard's strange shifting mask…it was like watching a lava lamp.

"I say old boy," Doubloon asked. "How the devil does it do that?"

"Technology courtesy of Ducktor Mouseton," He replied. "A nigh omnipotent being from my own universe."

I took a sip of my latté and looked around at the dozen or so Darkwings simply sitting around in the Starducks.

"Hey Quiverwing," a nearby Darkwing called out to me. I glanced over at him. His outfit was a bit strange; I believe that in his universe he was called "Jumping Quack Flash" instead of Darkwing Duck.

"How much longer do you think it will be before Bowling Ball Darkwing gets the TransDimensional Express up and running?"

"No clue," I said. "Seems he needs a ¾ pinkney flange to get it running again…"

There was a collective groan from the Darkwings in the room. I smirked, this meant that in their worlds—like in my own universe—it was impossible to find a ¾ pinkney flange if you were looking for one. I was about to comment further when I heard a woman's scream and the sound of shots ringing through the air. With a start, all of the Darkwings were on their feet and rushing through the Starduck's tavern doors.

XXX

**Quiverwing Duck's Universe, Dubbed "Quiververse" by NegaDuck, 7 months earlier; St. Canard Docks: 2:21AM **

"What is all this stuff anyway?" Babyface Beagle asked as he placed a crate in the back of the nearby truck. Four Beagle Boys were rapidly unloading crates from a small ship docked by the pier. A large pickup truck was backed onto the pier, and a fifth Beagle was sitting in the driver's seat, fast asleep while the other four unloaded.

"Who knows, who cares," Bigtime said. "We're getting paid handsomely to steal it. Leaving Duckburg was the best decision we ever made. Stupid Gizmoduck, always mucking things up. Here we can commit crimes without having to worry about stupid-super-heroes."

"What about that one guy?" Burger Beagle asked. "That…I can't remember his name, he wore a trench coat."

"Darkwing Duck?" Bigtime laughed. "Ain't nobody seen Darkwing Duck for over a year now. Never been a better time to commit crime in St. Canard."

Suddenly, an arrow struck the ground in front of the three Beagles. Green smoke began pouring out of the shaft.

"**I am the Hero, who Strikes in the Night,**" a mysterious voice said. **"I am the Arrow that never misses its Target: I, am QUIVERWING DUCK!"**

The smoke cleared away and the three Beagle Brothers stared blankly at the masked mallard standing on top of the pickup truck cab. The duck smirked and pulled back the arrow that had already been placed in the bow. The Beagles had enough presence of mind to attempt to escape when he released the arrow. They weren't fast enough however. The arrow split open into a net and wrapped around Burger and Bigtime. The four ends of the net spun around and tied themselves into a neat knot, trapping the two Beagles.

Bankjob, the remaining Beagle glared at the green-caped duck and lunged at him. He was too fast for Bankjob though, and nimbly flipped through the air and landed behind the large Beagle. As he flew through the air he strung another arrow, by the time he had landed he had already fired. The arrow split into bolas and wrapped around Bankjob, knocking him flat on the ground.

"Who hired you ruffians?" he demanded. The truck suddenly took off, Bugle Beagle having awakened and, realizing what had happened, had begun driving away.

Quiverwing never even hesitated. He fired an arrow at the back of the truck, it struck the tailpipe, and a blast of high-density foam rubber was released, rapidly filling the truck and clogging the engine. There was a loud **BANG** as the engine backfired and died.

"I said, WHO hired you?" Quiverwing demanded.

"We don't know his name," Bigtime cried out. "Honest, they just call him The Asterion. We don't know his real name."

Quiverwing turned towards Bugle Beagle as he got out of the car.

"I'm letting you go this time," Quiverwing said to the Beagle. "You tell your boss I'm coming for him."

"You kidding, I'm not taking orders from a Robin Hood wannabe," Bugle said as he turned to run. Quiverwing rolled his eyes and fired a bola arrow; it wrapped around Bugle and knocked him to the ground. He turned towards Bankjob.

"Gotcha," Bankjob said nodding his head rapidly in abject terror. "Go tell boss you're coming for him."

XXX

**Across Town, at the Malicious.**

A red haired duck in a black dress downed a martini and smirked. She looked around at her nightclub: it was packed tonight. Business had gone up since the disappearances of Darkwing Duck and the Quiverwing Quack over a year ago. Criminals felt safer without the dynamic duo interfering in their affairs.

She looked over her turnout for the evening, mostly petty thugs from Quackerjack's carnival of crime, but there were some big time names here tonight as well.

She spotted Bushroot and Rhoda Dendron, the dangerous plant duo in the corner, enjoying a candlelight date. Megavolt was sitting at the bar, the battery on his back plugged into a transformer. She even saw Quackerjack himself sitting in a chair near the front. They got all kinds at the _Malicious_.

The curtains opened to reveal the dancing girls, and there came a whoop from the audience. She snickered to herself, boys were so easy to please, criminals doubly so. Only Bushroot's eyes were on something other than the girls. Well, Bushroot's and Malicia's herself. She was the only one who noticed when a tall cockerel in a black suit with a metal beak walked in flanked by two thugs.

Malicia scowled. She had been having a good night…why did this stupid fowl have to go and…fowl it up.

"Steelbeak," she hissed sliding up to the cockerel. "I told you before you're not welcome here. The girls don't like you."

"Yeah, sure-ting toots," He crooned in his typical smooth-talker voice. "And when I'm a normal patron, feel free to enforce dat rule, but tonight I am here on office-e-al busy-ness."

A chill went up her spine. She knew all too well who Steelbeak worked for, and she didn't want to ever cross him.

"What does Taurus Bulba want with me?" she demanded.

"I do not what you are talking about," Steelbeak said in his most unconvincing tone. "Taurus Bulba is dead. Every-one knows this."

"Don't play games with me you stupid cocky cockerel," Malicia hissed, magical energy gathering around her right hand. Steelbeak smirked. That was one thing he loved about being Taurus' enforcer. His name brought fear to everyone.

"Relax babe," Steelbeak said. "He just wants to inform you that he will be taking 40% of the profits from now on."

"Forty percent!" Malicia hissed. "That's outrageous!"

"If you don't like it," Steelbeak said taking a comb out and using it to straighten his natural comb. "Take it up wit him."

"Okay then I will," She glared at him. Steelbeak jerked in surprise, dropping his comb.

"W-what?" he stammered. He had not been expecting this reaction. "Nobody but nobody sees da big man."

"You just said I could," Malicia said. "So I will. Take me to see him."

"All right toots," he said. "It's your funeral."

Malicia silently followed the cockerel out of her club.

**Elsewhere, The Silver Cauldron Restaurant.**

"Closing time, Jake," Morgana MaCawber said as she turned the open/close sign around on the door. She waved her hands and cast the simplest of cleaning spells. Broomstick with arms marched out of the closet and began cleaning up after the customers.

"Miss Morgana," Jake said stepping out of the kitchen as removed his apron. "I want to thank you again for hiring me and giving me a chance in your restaurant."

"Think nothing of it Jambalaya Jake," she said. "Everyone deserves a second chance."

"Thank you anyway miss Morgana," Jake said placing his toque on the counter and leaving the back way.

Morgana looked around as the broomsticks finished their work and returned to the closet. Jake was the talent, cooking up Cajun delights for the customers, but she was the hostess, working the tables in her slinky black dress. She opened the safe in the back and put the night's profits in it, and then she casual took her revolver out of the safe and slipped it into her purse. _The Silver Cauldron_ may have been 4 star restaurant, but it was in a very seedy part of town. It was the best she could afford with her own rap sheet.

She locked the door and slipped out into the cold night. She froze, looking around in surprise…she sensed a presence…someone she hadn't felt in a while. She looked around frantically, hoping against hope…but she saw no one. She sighed, knowing it was too good to be true.

She did not see the figure looking down on her from the rooftops above. Quiverwing Duck pulled out an arrow and fired it at the building across the street, creating a zip line to the next building.

**Now**

"It can't be," Doubloon said. I had to admit it, I couldn't believe what I was seeing either.

I frowned as I looked down, still in absolute shock at what I was seeing. The hot desert sun pounded away, oblivious to what was going on beneath it.

"Looks like we're not going to be leaving anytime soon anyway," Rorschach Darkwing said popping another sugar cube in his mouth. "Even if Bowling Ball gets the train fixed."

"Yes," Sherlock Darkwing said shaking his head. "The evidence is quite clear…Deathvalley Duck has been murdered."


	2. Missed Targets

**Murder on the TransDimensional Express**

_I don't own Quiverwing Duck, Darkwing Duck, or any of the AU DWs. They came from the brilliant minds of Tad Stones, Ian Brill, and James Silvani. Disney owns them all. The Deadly Malicia MaCawber belongs to Vaporish, used with permission._

_Daring Duck of Mystery, Champion of Right, swoops out of the shadows, Quiverwing owns the night, somewhere some villain schemes, but his number's up, cuz here comes…Quiverwing Duck_

I watched with fascination as Werewolf Darkwing, or "Darkwolf Dog", as he styled himself circled where Deathvalley's remains had been before. We had frozen them and quickly taken them away for an autopsy. Darkwolf circled the spot several times, snuffling along with his beak/snout to the ground.

He snuffled over to a spot about 30 feet away and howled.

"This is where the murderer stood," he said at last.

Aside from Darkwolf, only Sherlock Darkwing, Rorschach Darkwing, Darkwing Doubloon and myself were present.

"Excellent," Doubloon said.

"Can you track him?" Rorschach asked.

"No," Darkwolf said shaking his head.

"Why not?" Rorschach responded. Darkwolf sighed.

"Because the murderer smells just like, you," he said.

"And you," He pointed at Sherlock,

"And you," He pointed at Doubloon,

"And you," he pointed at me, "And all the other Darkwings sans the non-mallard ones"

"It's elementary my dear Rorschach," Sherlock said. "Deathvalley was murdered by another Darkwing. At present, I know of only two Darkwings capable of such an act."

"And since one has been tron-split into millions of particles of evil and slightly less evil floating around St. Canard Prime," I said frowning.

I grabbed one of my few arrow-arrows, and thus one of the only lethal parts of my arsenal and marched away from the crime scene.

The murder had taken place just outside of town (hey, it was a small town) but I was headed in the opposite direction. Less than a half-mile from the spot, I came across a boarded up mine entrance.

The mine had long since been abandoned and sealed up. The sign above it said "McDuck Mine". There were actually a number of entrances to the mine, but this one was the nearest.

Not in the mood to play games I placed the arrow-arrow between my beak, whipped out my mallet-arrow and fired, shattering the boards. Pulling the arrow out of my mouth I marched down into the mine.

It wasn't long before I found the TransDimensional Express sitting on the mine tracks. I marched up to the back of the train climbed aboard and marched through the empty cars till I came to the third car from the engine. ArachnoDuck saluted me with three of his arms and opened the door for me. I marched into the room where DarkWarrior Duck sat, tied to a chair by ArachnoDuck's spider-silk.

DarkWarrior smirked as I aimed an arrow at his face.

"You know we have an audience?" he said, noting that Sherlock, Rorschach, Doubloon, Darkwolf, and ArachnoDuck had followed me in.

"Wouldn't be the first time," I said.

**Quiververse, 7 months earlier; St. Canard Underworld: 2:31AM **

"And this is a live feed?" Taurus asked frowning.

"Are you kidding boss?" "Hammerhead" Hannigan responded. "It was hard enough getting any kind of video of this nut…have you seen him? He moves like the wind! This was shot ten minutes ago…the freak is long gone."

"Yes," Taurus said stroking his chin, "He moves with such purpose, such conviction…not like the bumbling imbecile…this is an interesting development. I must remember to keep an eye on this...Duck…"

The grated elevator door suddenly opened as Steelbeak stepped out. Taurus smirked as Malicia MaCawber followed him into the room.

"Oh boy," Hannigan said looking at the duckubus in surprise. The goat then decided to make himself scarce.

Malicia looked around Taurus's hideout in appreciation. The bull certainly knew about the finer things in life. His office had a desk with an imposing chair in one corner, the chair being bigger than the bovine himself (a hard enough task in and of itself) in the opposite corner, a large love seat big enough for the bull and someone else, with a television resting in front of it, though the TV was currently rotated towards the desk. She could see the black and white images flickering on the screen. It was some kind of modern retelling of Robin Hood by the looks of it. Her heart skipped a beat. She had always been a fan of Errowl Flynn, but the duck playing Robin was even more dashing than he was.

There was a bar in the right hand corner, opposite the desk, and the elevator took up the remaining corner.

Hammerhead was gone, though where, Malicia couldn't be sure. Taurus Bulba dominated the room. He was tall and imposing, well muscled and with strong chiseled features. He wore a pinstriped suit and a bowler hat. She'd seen his pictures in the papers and on the news serials before his "death" last year, but in person, he was even more impressive.

Malicia surprised even herself; she had always been a fowl-and-feathers kind of girl, only interested in Mallards and the occasional goose. She'd never before been interested in a mammal, but Taurus's physique certainly opened her mind to new possibilities.

"Miss Malicia MaCawber," Taurus said in his most charming tone. "I've been expecting you."

She shuddered at those words. Steelbeak chuckled nervously and hurried himself back into the elevator. Malicia didn't like that…

"Have a drink with me my dear," Bulba said, pouring a fine wine into a glass. "Pinot McDuck. Scrooge demands top dollar for his products…if they weren't worth every penny that he demands, I wouldn't even bother. Come now my dear…surely you can enjoy the finer things in life. After all, in a way, you're paying for this wine."

His words snapped Malicia back to reality. She suddenly remembered why she had come here in the first place.

Her eyes flashed as he turned around with the glasses in his hands.

"Forty percent of my profits are outrageous," she said. She started to say more but his look froze her with fear.

"I'm afraid it's non-negotiable," Taurus said matter-of-factly as he forced the drink in her hand. "You will be paying me forty percent of your profits, or the _Malicious _will find itself under new management."

"Do you know who I am?" She snarled, throwing the expensive wine down on the carpet and shattering the glass.

"Quite well in fact," Taurus said. "That's why this rug has the symbol of Hecate woven into it."

Malicia's eyes widened in shock. She was powerless. Since Taurus owned the rug, he alone could say who could and couldn't use magic when standing on it. Such was the law of the goddess of magic. Taurus had done his research and he had the upper hand, in fact, Malicia had never been more vulnerable. If the crime lord wanted to do away with her, there would never be a better time.

She deflated.

"Relax," Taurus said. "If I wanted you dead my dear, you would be. There are ways to pay me my cut without money…"

She blinked in surprise. She reached up towards the back of her dress.

"No," Taurus chuckled. "Business before pleasure. I am in need of a magic-user. A sorceress for my operation. Magic is a…tricky business, I have fingers in every aspect of St. Canard…except one…"

"Ah," Malicia said, realization dawning on her. Knowing what he wanted and what was expected of her, she felt her magic return. She waved her hand over the shattered glass. It reformed and the wine flowed back into it. "Taurus my dear, this could be the start of a beautiful friendship."

**Quiververse; St. Canard Docks: 9:31AM**

"What do you suppose it means?" Chief Police Commissioner Hooter said frowning at the three Beagle Boys tied up neatly. "Detective Grizzlikof?"

"I am not sure Chief-Commissioner," He responded. "But you should be coming to see this…"

Two arrows were stuck into the wall of the warehouse and between them a single banner was strung.

**THE QUIVERWING STRIKES ONCE MORE**

"Oh my," the police chief said.

**Quiververse; St. Canard- The Silver Cauldron Restaurant: 11:31AM**

"Is something bothering you Jake?" Morgana asked the Cajun cook as she stepped into the kitchen.

Jambalaya Jake jumped when she spoke. He had been staring blankly into his gumbo for almost fifteen minutes.

"I'm sorry, miss Morgana," he said shaking his head and stirring the gumbo. "I'll try to stay focused I gare-on-tee."

"What is it Jake?" Morgana asked, "Your Étouffée isn't up to snuff, I just wanted to check on you."

"It's just that…it's been one year," He said taking his toque off and crinkling it in his hands. "One year since…the incident at the St. Canard Dam…you know the one…"

Morgan shuddered. She knew the incident all to well…the very reason that Jake had given up crime…and the very night she had lost her Dark. He had simply vanished from her life that night. She alone knew his secret identity, and had gone to his house to find it deserted. Everything of sentimental value was gone, and so was Darkwing. She hadn't seen him since.

"We're not very busy," Morgana said. "Let's feed the customers we have and close for the day. We'll say it's a holiday, it kind of is."

"Most of St. Canard don't know what she did," Jake said. "They don't know what happened. If they did, it WOULD be a holiday I gare-ON-tee."

She nodded and frowned. She had heard something odd on the radio that was playing in the dining room.

"Archie," she called, "Turn it up!"

The tarantula—who lived in the radio during business hours—grumbled in annoyance but did as he was asked.

"And the Beagles, claimed the masked mallard was like Robin Hood," the newscaster announced. "If Robin Hood was ten times scarier than Duckula and more intense and focused than Gizmoduck. The hero left no name but there was a message written at the crime scene: The Quiverwing Strikes Again. Leading many officials to speculate that that dynamic duo, those daring-do-gooders Darkwing Duck and Quiverwing Quack have once again returned to our fair city."

"Dark!" Morgana cooed before realizing what the broadcaster had actually said. "Wait…"

"That's not possible miss Morgana," Jake said shaking his head. "Quiverwing's gone…I saw it myself…it don't make sense."

**Quiververse; St. Canard: McDuck Enterprises Munitions and Arms Manufacturing. 6:32 PM**

"Hurry, hurry my players," Tuskernini called out to the Eggmen. "We mustn't dawdle. Act One Scene One. Scrooge McDuck, the robber baron of Duckburg grows a conscience, and orders the closing of several dozen of his munitions factories. Enter F.O.W.L, the Fiendish Organization for World Larceny sweeping in to relieve the factories of as many armaments as possible before the military comes in and does it for them. After all, what will the military use the munitions for? Mundane unimaginative things like protecting its citizens, no F.O.W.L. has much bigger and better plans for these babies."

"Come now," he said as his penguin assistants directed the Eggmen. There was a loud crash as an arrow came through the window and landed in the center of the room. Once again green smoke came pouring out filling the room.

"Come, Come," Tuskernini said gesturing to the Eggmen as he backed towards the door. "Our lives for the Theater!"

The green smoke filled the room and obscured all vision. Tuskernini could hear no sounds beside the frequent "FWIPP" that occurred every ten seconds or so. He attempted to escape through the door to the munitions factory only to find the door melted shut with the shaft of an arrow sticking out of the molten metal. He gingerly touched the metal and jerked back, realizing it was still hot.

"I am the Arrow that Strikes in the Night," a voice behind him said. The overweight walrus jerked and spun around to see the silhouette in the smoke of a strange masked figure with a bow and arrow pointed at him.

"A bow and arrow?" he crowed. "How pleasantly, quaintly, Native American…allow me to play cowboy to your Indian."

He whipped out a small revolver but no sooner was it out then Tuskernini was wincing in pain as the gun clattered to the ground, an arrow sticking out of its trigger.

"I am the Crazy Horse to your General Custer," The duck said, igniting a flaming arrow and aiming it at Tuskernini's head. Tuskernini swallowed at the reference.

"I am _Quiverwing Duck_," he said. "And you, are Tuskernini, chief agent of F.O.W.L. Tell me where the Asterion is."

"I don't know what your are…" he started to say. FWAPP. A flaming arrow whizzed past his head, knocking his hat off and striking the wall behind him.

"Do you really want to play with flaming arrows in a munitions factory?" Tuskernini asked.

"Do you?" Quiverwing asked, pulling back another arrow with a flaming tip. "I know that all crime in St. Canard needs to be cleared with him first, and he always takes a cut. Even from F.O.W.L."

"Ah yes," Tuskernini said suddenly. "The Asterion…hmm…never met him in person, we talked over the phone."

"ARGGH!" Quiverwing growled in frustration. The flaming arrow whizzed past Tuskernini's head once again, singing his whiskers as it passed. Quiverwing turned and disappeared into the green smoke.

Tuskernini sighed in relief, and then stepped forward. The smoke was slowly lifting from the warehouse. He looked on in horror as he saw that each and every Eggman, as well as his penguin assistants, was tied up or bound in some way, by some kind of trick arrow. Then he heard the sounds of police sirens surrounding the building.

"How embarrassing," He moaned. "High command will not be pleased to hear about this.

XXX

**OK Canard: Now**

DarkWarrior never even flinched as I raised my arrow towards his face.

"Are you kidding me?" he sneered. "You actually think I killed Deathvalley Duck? You can't be serious. One; I've been tied up in this room since we got here…since we got anywhere really. Two; as soft on crime as I think you inferior versions of myself are, you're the only thing preventing your universes from devolving into utter chaos. Why would I advocate ANY kind of lawlessness? That's just ridiculous."

"Actually," Sherlock said frowning. "By DarkWarrior Logic, that argument is sound. I truly do believe he's telling the truth and is completely innocent this time."

"Well," Rorschach said. "Innocent of this crime. He's still a monster in his own universe."

Realizing that they were right, that DarkWarrior had no real motive for killing Deathvalley, I slowly lowered my bow and quivered my arrow.

"Which leads us to an inevitable but horrifying conclusion," Sherlock said.

"What's that?" Doubloon asked.

"One of us killed Deathvalley Duck," He posited as he took his pipe out of his mouth. "And we have no idea which one of us that is."


End file.
